O blue and nerveless
stars. The night and the
distance of the lake.

People desired things they didn’t know they wanted. Angry voices, heat,
emergencies. That was a summer. Isn’t there anything you can take? she said.
She meant, I’m tired of your suffering. The rustle of the pigeons;

The rest of the painting being dominated
By two short, disproportionate figures
With fool's gold haloes.

In her dream
the wind blew her vagina out the bedroom
down the Spanish steps

The three of you are inseparable
You dance the ring around the rosy doom

I wonder if Agnes meant that innocent love is the kind of love that is within us.

I’ve only seen a dead bird up close once. It wasn’t red but blue. I named it Happiness before I buried it.

A boy drowns in a lake. Another opens
his head against a steering wheel. Another
goes downtown. Into a boardroom. Into

From where I watched, the shiny satellite 
Almost occluded summer Sirius. 
I might have sworn they’d touch and set the night 

I took the pill of estradiol. My feet hurt.